Moving
by Acepilot6
Summary: Chuckie and Phil's friendship is put to the test when they have to share a room. A story the pros and cons of learning to be part of a new family. Sequel to Dating. Reviews appreciated.


**Moving  
**Acepilot

8 - * - * - 8

"Where did you get so much stuff?" Chuckie asked Phil as he lugged yet another box of Phil's 'assorted junk and green-ish things', according to the label on the side of the carton, into the room.

"I honestly don't know," Phil said, hauling another box in behind Chuckie. "For as long as I can remember, I just seem to accumulate this kind of rubbish."

"Well, next time you move, maybe take the opportunity and throw some stuff out. I don't know where it's all going to fit."

"It's really not that much stuff," Phil protestsed, putting his box down at the foot of Chuckie's bed. "Anyway, when's the last time you threw some stuff out?"

"Sorry, that job is strictly a 'moving' thing," Chuckie told him. "Any more?"

"Nah," Phil said. "Just the bed to put together."

The two boys observed the mess of slats and head and feet that lay in the corner of the room that had been designated as Phil's half.

"Or maybe I'll just sleep on the floor," Phil suggested. "I hear it's great for your back."

8 - * - * - 8

Betty stuck her head in the room later. "How goes the assembly?"

Phil looked up from his efforts, holding an allen key in his mouth while he tried to work out why the supports weren't going into the holes they were meant to fill. "Oh, you know. Barrel of laughs."

"You've got those backwards," she told him, coming into the room fully with a cup of coffee in each hand. She deposited them both on the desk. Phil noticed that one of them was in his favourite mug, the one he'd brought with him from home, and he was extremely thankful. He could use it.

He looked at the supports. "How can you _tell_ which end is which? Their both identical."

"I know. Last time we put it together I cut little scores in the right end so we wouldn't get confused again."

Phil rolled his eyes, taking the end covered with what he had simply thought were random scratches and inserting it in the bed-frame. It fit perfectly, and he quickly allen-keyed in the bolts. "I could have used _that _information before I staretd."

"Well, it's important that you try these things on your own, you know," Betty told him, chuckilng. He set down his partly assembled frame and reached for the coffee, which his mother obligingly passed down to him. Before he could get it to his mouth, however, she reached down and ruffled his hair. "Phil...I know we talked about all this before it happened and everything but...you are okay with this, aren't you? Us living here? You sharing a room with Chuckie? I mean, I know it's been a long time since you had to share a room with anyone and...well, it'll probably be hard for you to adapt to -"

"I can handle it, I'm sure," Phil said. "I mean, yeah, it'll take some getting used to, I expect that. But Chuckie and I are good friends and I think we'll be able respect each other's boundaries."

Betty looked doubtful, but sighed. "I just don't want this move to be something that makes your life difficult."

"Is this move going to make you happy?" Phil asked. He suspected he already knew the answer.

Betty reached out and clasped her son's shoulder. "Yes. I didn't think, when your dad and I separated, that I'd want to end up in this close a relationship with a man again, and even when Chaz and I started dating, I had no idea this would end up being so...serious. But it has. And here we are."

Phil offered her a smile. "I'm very happy for you, Mom. And I want to keep that up. So I'm willing to give anything a shot. Even living with Chuckie."

Betty nodded. Phil, sensing the conversation might be more or less over, took a swig of his coffee.

"You know, if you'd prefer, we could always move you in with Lil."

Phil felt coffee jerk through his nose for a second but succeeded in holding it back from spraying all over the room. "Yeah, Mom, I really think that's a recipe for disaster right there."

Betty laughed. "Well, can't say I didn't try," she told him. "Good luck with the bed."

"Thanks."

8 - * - * - 8

Chuckie could hear a noise best described as clacking.

He cracked one eyelid open and looked around the room as best as he was able. The curtain was open - something he never did himself - and the light of the full moon bathed the room. And there was still the odd noise of clacking.

His gaze immediately settled on Phil's bed, but he wasn't in it.

Chuckie pulled himself up slightly and saw why.

Phil was seated at his keyboard in the far corner, headphones plugged into it - probably in an attempt not to wake Chuckie - and playing...something. Whatever it was, Chuckie couldn't tell, because all he could hear was a tuneless clacking.

"Phil," he hissed.

Phil, headphones on and clacking away, couldn't hear him.

Chuckie flung a pillow at him, hitting him on the side of the head. Phil jerked out of his practice with a start and whipped his headphones off. "Jesus! You scared the life out of me!"

"How else was I mean to get your attention?" Chuckie asked. "Do you have to do that now?"

"What?"

"Play the keyboard."

"Can you hear it through my headphones?" Phil asked. "They're meant to be acoustically sealed."

"They are," Chuckie assured him. "But the keyboard itself makes a noise. It woke me up."

Phil looked down at his keyboard, headphones in his lap, and pressed a key, and then a run of them. Chuckie could hear every note crystal clear, even from the distance of halfway across the room, and realised it was little wonder Phil was unaware of the noise he made while playing. He was incredibly surprised the other boy wasn't deaf if that was the volume he usually had in his ears.

"Sorry," Phil said. "I just...do this when I can't sleep. I used to do it whenever Mom and Dad fought."

Chuckie felt a momentary ache for the other boy. He was never sure if he felt worse for himself or Phil. His parents had just suddenly ended things, they'd never fought - but eventually they rarely spoke...and that had been it for them. Phil and Lil, on the other hand, had had to live through years of their parents screaming matches. When the end of his parents marriage came for Chuckie, it had been a shock, and he'd been torn up over it. When Betty and Howard divorced, he was sure that Phil had, at least partly, seen it as a relief.

Chuckie felt that was probably even worse.

This at least explained how someone with the lack of patience he usually attributed to Phil was able to sit still long enough to teach himself piano. If it was a choice between that and listening to your parents fighting, he was not surprised at all that Phil had been able to focus on it.

"Well...maybe we can put the keyboard in the lounge, or something, if you want to do it at night?"

Phil shrugged. "Maybe. I'm sorry, Chuckie. I'll go back to bed. Sorry I woke you."

"That's alright," he said. Phil threw his pillow back to him, albeit somewhat gentler than Chuckie had thrown it at him, and he tucked it under his head and turned back over to go to sleep.

8 - * - * - 8

Chuckie didn't snore, Phil decided.

No, it wasn't guttural enough to be actually considered snoring. It was a wheezing noise. He'd heard it hundreds of times at hundreds of sleepovers but after a week of cohabitation it was starting to grate on his nerves.

It wasn't that annoying a noise, really. Lil snored. _Really_ snored. But he'd grown up with that, it was part of the aural soundscape that he was accustomed to when trying to fall asleep. Chuckie's soft wheeze wasn't.

Phil lay on his bed, sheet around his waist as the early autumn heat continued to drag at him. He wanted to open the window but Chuckie couldn't sleep with it open, so tonight he was leaving it shut. He did have the blind open, however, and stared out the window, hands behind his head, and counted stars, in the hope that he would drift off soon. He really wanted to practice the piano, but he knew it kept Chuckie awake.

The reality of living with someone new after so long was beginning, very slowly, to sink in on him.

8 - * - * - 8

Lil was halfway through making her breakfast when she heard somebody clear their throat behind her. Chaz's voice followed a moment later. "Sorry, I hate to interrupt, but..."

"Yes?" she asked, turning to face him.

"Do you always butter your toast like that?"

Lil paused and looked at the piece of toast in her left hand, the butter knife in her right, and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

Chaz raised a hand in what was probably meant to be a placating gesture. "Oh, I don't mean anything by it, I was just curious. It's just kind of unusual. Most people butter their toast while it's sitting on the plate."

Lil looked at her plate, sitting with one piece of toast already buttered on it, waiting for its companion to join it, ready to be coated in jam. And even when she put the jam on, she knew,she would pick it up and hold it when she did so. It was just how she made her breakfast. "It breaks the toast," she told him. "The pressure from underneath makes it crack. And you don't get the right amount of control, doing it on the plate."

Chaz made a noise that sounded an awful lot like, "Hmmm...", and crossed the kitchen to put a slice of toast in the toaster himself, which, Lil assumed, he would butter meticulously on the plate.

Lil realised that the distraction had cooled her toast noticeably, and the butter was struggling to melt into the bread, which would leave it blending with the jam. She sighed and bit her lip.

A tired looking Phil trudged into the kitchen at that point, eyes as ever fixated on the coffee pot first thing in the morning, though this morning Lil could have sworn his need for caffeine was even more pronounced than usual. "Hard night on the booze, Philly?"

"Oh, you know me," he said, pulling his preferred cup down from the mug tree, "once I get started on the Teachers I just can't stop."

The first time they'd discussed Phil's hard nights on the grog in front of him, Chaz had been quite startled. Until their Mom had started teasing Phil about it to, at which point he'd been quite clearly relieved to discover that it really was a joke.

Lil finished putting apricot jam on her now sub-standard (by her view) toast, and sat down at the table, where Phil was just pouring himself a bowl of cereal to go with his coffee, and adding milk to each. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Chaz, as she had predicted, buttered his toast on the plate. And just to show her up, it didn't crack or dent or any such thing.

She rolled her eyes.

"Good morning, troops," her mother's voice cut in on her introspection about breakfast foods, and Lil was so startled that she jumped a little. "Didn't think I was _that_ stealthy," Betty told her, crossing the kitchen to give Chaz a kiss while she grabbed a box of museli from the cupboard. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Chaz said, suddenly sounding several degrees brighter.

Lil turned her head away. There were some things that she didn't particularly want to see, no matter how happy they made her mom.

8 - * - * - 8

"So, how's it been going?" Tommy asked him.

Chuckie shrugged. "It's been...different."

"That sounds kind of ominous," the younger boy noted, scirbbling something in his notebook about shots and light filters. "The DeVille clan proving harder to deal with on a daily basis than you expected?"

"I don't quite know what I expected," Chuckie admitted. "Dad and I had a big talk about this going in, of course. _Are you sure you're okay with this, Chuckie? I wouldn't want to do anything to make you uncomfortable._ But I didn't think it would be that big a deal. I mean, we've known Phil and Lil for as long as I can remember, and Betty's been my boss and...well, practically a parent to me for years. But it's the little things they do, things that they do in the privacy of their own homes. I mean, I never would have noticed it before. But now _my_ home is _their _home and so I can't not notice it, you know?"

Tommy tried to run through this explanation in his head before responding. "I think I know, yes."

Chuckie sighed. "Phil plays piano in the night. He's up at all hours - I seriously think he only sleeps an hour a night, if that. And when he does doze off, he talks in his sleep. Lil leaves little hair-band thingies lying in the bathroom. Kimi never did. Seriously, they're everywhere. And the way she butters her toast freaks Dad out. Don't ask," Chuckie opted to head off the obvious question, and so Tommy obligingly didn't ask it. "Betty has a radio alarm that goes off at an obscene time of the morning and I can never get back to sleep. It's a million little things, but...sharing the room with Phil is proving to be the hardest one of all."

"Because he's a slob?"

"Not so much," Chuckie told him. "I think he's trying really hard not to be out of consideration for me, but it's not been that big a problem. But he's an isnomniac, he listens to music while he does his homework - and I'll admit I don't so much get his taste in music - he's noisy and he distracts me when I'm trying to do things and he's taking up all my space."

"Maybe the two of you need to set some boundaries," Tommy suggested. "Actually talk it out, lay down ground rules. Or maybe you need something to bond over."

"Maybe we need to give up and move into separate rooms."

"I thought the reason you were sharing one is because there weren't enough rooms?"

"Well...kind of. There's Dad's study, which is small but we could make into a bedroom. But we both insisted that no, we could do this, and I don't think I just want to...give up on it like that."

Tommy shrugged. "Well...not the way I'd go about it, but as long as you're sure..."

8 - * - * - 8

"How did _you_ live with him?" Phil asked, pacing the living room. "Is there an art to it that I'm missing?"

"Well, I was four when I last shared a room with him," Kimi pointed out, popping her feet up on the coffee table and watching Phil pace. "My information is probably a bit out of date."

"I'll take whatever I can get at this point," Phil assured her. "I mean, I like Chuckie, he's a great friend, but he's going to _drive me crazy_. I can't do anything. I can't listen to my music. He doesn't like the movies I want to watch. I can't practice the piano. I can't read at night."

"I don't know if these are issues you're having with Chuckie or with cohabitation," Kimi speculated.

"Well, it's cohabitation with Chuckie that worries me, so as far as I'm concerned it's much of a muchness. I mean, living with Lil and Mom is like an old habit for me, I guess. I could do it in my sleep. I often do, in fact. But Chuckie and Chaz are just...different. Nothing big, but little things that just kind of trip me up."

"He probably feels the exact same way about the things that you do."

Phil gave her an incredulous look. "I hate to sound all high school on you here, but..._duh_. I'm not saying I'm some perfect roommate. I'm just wondering how we're going to get through it without killing each other."

Kimi sighed. "Do you think Dad and Betty are going to get married?"

It took a moment for Phil to appreciate that really was the question she had asked. "Well...yeah, I guess so, probably. I mean, I don't know, maybe they will, maybe they won't. They seem to be leaning in that direction at the moment, don't they?"

"Well...what if they do? What if you have to become a family that involves Chuckie and Dad? Maybe that's how you need to start thinking. Chuckie isn't just somebody you share a room with. He's someone that might potentially end up being your brother."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "I don't know if that's a comforting thought or not."

"I didn't entirely mean for it to be comforting," she told him. "I more meant that this is something you're going to have to learn to deal with on a much more permanent basis. So best to start finding ways to live with each other now. Find things you like doing together, and maybe some ways to guarantee each other a bit of space when you need it."

Phil sighed. "You always have what seem to be great, if difficult, ideas."

"It's why you like having me around."

8 - * - * - 8

Chuckie woke with a start at the sound of the front door slamming and realised somewhat belatedly that he'd fallen asleep on the couch again. "What, I'm up!"

"If you say so, kid," Betty told him, strolling into the living room. "You alright, Chuckster? Seems like every time I see you these days you're halfway to dozing off."

"Haven't been sleeping much," he told her, covering a broad yawn and pulling himself up off the couch in a stretch.

Betty raised an eyebrow. "Anything troubling you?"

_Yeah, sharing a room with your son the insomniac_. "No, not particularly."

His Dad's girlfriend looked doubtful, but nodded anyway. "If you say so. What do you want for dinner tonight?"

It took a moment for that question to rattle around in his head before he understood the relative enormity of it. "You're going to cook?"

"I thought I'd give it a go," she told him with a wink. "Unfair on Philly to have to do it all the time."

Despite his current issues surrounding Phil, Chuckie had to admit that Betty had a point. It was a good thing Phil lived there because between his Dad, him, Betty and Lil they would be having some pretty questionable meals when left to their own devices. "Spaghetti would be nice."

"Meatballs or meat sauce?"

"Meat sauce," he told her. "Do you want a hand?"

"Nah," she said, turning to stroll into the kitchen. "Should probably keep everyone out of range of potential explosions."

Chuckie laughed. Living with Betty wasn't so bad. She was loud, sure, but not abrasively so and she was always there to listen and help. She wasn't his Mom, but then, she wasn't trying to be, either. She was still just Betty. The only difference was that she lived here now, and that his Dad was a lot happier. "In that case I'm going to go continue my nap. Are the smoke alarms on?"

"Careful or I'll hide all the cheese," Betty told him, but did so with a smile.

He chuckled and mounted the stairs. Maybe he would actually get a chance to relax for a while, catch some real sleep. He wasn't fond of sleeping in the afternoon, but the heat of the house was making it appealing and he really hadn't been sleeping well. Which wasn't entirely Phil's fault, he guessed. They were still adjusting. It was to be expected. It would not be easy, and it would take time, but they would get there.

Chuckie pushed the door to his room open without thinking, a mistake he would not make twice.

"Augh!"

The shriek of surprise that came from Phil's half of the room was definitely not Phil, no matter how girly it sounded. Chuckie had never seen the younger boy move so fast as he whirled around, pulling his clothes back into line and smoothing a hand through his hair and standing in front of and blocking Chuckie's view of the girl on the bed as she did the same.

"Chuckie," Phil said, biting his lower lip, "hi. You're up. And in here."

"Yeah," Chuckie said. "Uh...sorry?"

"Hmm," was the only response Phil could muster. Wally peeked out from behind him, clothes more or less back in the right order but still looking quite disheveled.

"Hi, Wally," Chuckie said, turning to face the opposite wall. He noted that the curtain was open again, and moved to close it. "Sorry to intrude."

"No, no, I had to be going anyway," she said, rising from the bed, keeping her hands on Phil's shoulders and Phil determinedly between herself and Chuckie, despite the fact that she was now perfectly decent. "I'll uh...talk to you later Phil."

"Yeah, you too," Phil told her, rolling his eyes and kissing her on the forehead. "Later."

She made good her escape.

Phil watched her go before turning to face his ersthwhile roommate.

"Maybe we need to work out a system," Chuckie suggested, trying not to wither under Phil's glare and crossed arms. "Tie on the doorknob or something."

"Neither of us," Phil pointed out, a tapping foot completing his image of faltering patience, "wear ties."

Phil, however, wasn't the only one running low on patience.

Chuckie, finally, inevitably, exploded.

"Well, I don't know, Phil!" he exclaimed, and was satisfied to note Phil's defiant stance was lost as the other boy staggered backwards at the unexpected outburst. "I'm trying and trying here but you're just..."

"I'm just what!" Phil asked, stepping back up. "I'm just what? Getting in the way of all your fun? Walking in on you with your girlfriend? Not letting you play your music?" Phil suddenly saw something over Chuckie's shoulder, before storming past the other boy and whipping the curtain open. "Keeping the room too dark for you! This place is like a tomb, Chuck! Natural light isn't going to kill you, you know."

"I _like_ the curtain closed," Chuckie told him. "I like silence when I'm trying to sleep! I like quiet while I'm trying to study! And I hate the way you leave the spoon in your coffee! It makes a little clinking noise when you tip the mug back!" Chuckie wasn't sure why that one had leapt to mind in particular, but he felt his momentum building and had decided to run with it. "And sorry that I walked in on you but this is _my bedroom_, Phil! Where was I meant to go? How was I meant to know that you were in here with Wally? Hell, I barely knew you and she were dating again. It's not like you tell me anything."

"_Don't_ change the subject," Phil insisted.

"Why not?" Chuckie asked. "I mean, let's face it, we live together Phil, and what? We barely speak these days except when I'm telling you to play your music quieter or when you tell me to stop putting things on your keyboard."

Phil shrugged, almost deflating from his previous state of being puffed up in anger. "I don't know, Chuckie. Maybe we're just not..."

"Not what?" Chuckie asked. "Very good friends? Very good...brothers?"

Phil looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm going to spend the night at Mom's," Chuckie told him, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. He always left clothes at his Mom's, so he didn't need to extend the awkward scene by packing something. "Tell Betty and Dad I'll be home tomorrow."

Phil nodded slowly. "Right," he said. If there was an emotion in his voice, Chuckie couldn't place it.

8 - * - * - 8

"Maybe I should live here," Chuckie suggested, staring at the ceiling.

Kimi snorted with laughter. "You wouldn't fit, Chuckie. You and I would have to share a room then, and I don't think that's any more a viable option than the current situation."

"I don't _like_ fighting with anyone, but fighting with Phil at the moment just has me feeling...ill," he said.

"It's because you haven't been sleeping," Kimi told him. "You and Phil will be fine. You're just going through some...teething problems, that's all."

"Do you think Dad and Betty are going to get married?" he asked her.

Her breath caught in her throat. "I...don't know."

He sighed. "What if they do? What if I just can't live with Phil and Lil?"

"I think you're blowing everything way out of proportion," Kimi suggested, "and that what we all desperately need is some vital perspective."

"I mean," Chuckie said, barrelling on as if he hadn't listened to his sister, "Lil would probably be okay. But I mean...Phil and I - "

"Are being teenage boys," Kimi told him. "Being silly teenage boys who aren't used to sharing your space any more. You and Phil are as close as anyone I've ever known. You're having some territorial issues but the two of you _are still best friends_, you know."

Chuckie looked up at her. "You really think so?"

Kimi nodded. "I don't think you and Phil are really fighting. You're just...conflicted."

"Much of a muchness."

"You just need to work out where the difference lies between you," she suggested. "Work that out and get over it."

"And thing will go back to normal?"

"No," Kimi told him. "Normal no longer exists. Now, his mom and our dad are in a serious relationship and - well, I think Dad's going to propose. Soonish. And that means what _was_ normal is kind of...over for us. But now there's this...new normal. And I think it's something that we - and I mean _all_ of us - are going to have to come to terms with. It's not better or worse. It's different. Everything's going to change, Chuckie. You, Phil and Lil are going to have this new relationship. You and Betty are going to have to deal with a whole new set of boundaries."

Chuckie didn't say anything, but contemplated that scenario for a moment.

"Betty does make Dad happy, doesn't she?"

"Very," Kimi agreed.

He sighed.

8 - * - * - 8

The next morning, by the time Chuckie got home, there was a note on the table from his Dad, telling him that he had gone into the Java Lava for the day, and that there should be leftover spaghetti for lunch. Chuckie rolled his eyes at the slight babying attitude his Dad had taken on with him lately, and climbed the stairs to his room, flinging the door open and dropping his bag on the floor before collapsing down onto the bed. It was a wonderful feeling - as much as staying at his Mom's had helped him escape the many and various problems he'd been having here at home, by the same token it had left him sleeping on a couch. And he definitely wasn't a fan of that.

Yep, being back in his own room was a pretty good feeling.

Until he caught that thought running through his mind, and shot up off his bed.

Phil's bed was missing. As was his keyboard. His half of the closet was missing all its clothes. Chuckie's room was exactly the way it had been before the DeVille's moved in.

"Oh, no," Chuckie groaned.

Maybe it had all caused a fight. Maybe his inability to get on with Phil had made Betty decide to take things slower with his Dad, and the DeVilles had gone. His dad would be crushed. And it was all his fault.

Well, it wasn't really _all_ his fault. It was kind of Phil's fault as well. And Lil's. That thing she did with her toast didn't help. And his Dad's fault, because, really, who let something like that bother them?

"You're home."

Chuckie turned on his toes to find Phil standing opposite him in the doorway, leaning on the jamb, looking surprisingly relaxed.

"Uh...yeah," Chuckie agreed. "I am."

"Come on," Phil said, waving him over. "I want to show you something."

Chuckie followed Phil out into the hallway, and the other boy led him down to the door that led to his Dad's office.

"Phil," he said, apprehensively.

"Come on in," Phil told him, "to my room."

Chuckie followed Phil into the room. If he hadn't known it had been a study he wouldn't have recognised it. Phil had succeeded in cramming more or less all of his things into the room, though with a fair bit of effort, clearly. The old cupboard that had been in the garage for years had been set up in here and presumably had the rest of Phil's 'assorted junk and green-ish things' contained within. "Phil..."

"It's like this, Chuckie," the other boy told him, sitting down at a card-table that was clearly currently serving Phil as a makeshift desk - his netbook sat on it, closed, hooked up to a hard-drive and CD drive that Phil had idenfiably cannibalised from one of their old computers at shcool. Currently laid out on it was a chessboard, pieces ready and waiting. "We are not very good _roommates_. But I see no reason why that should effect any other kind of bond we might have."

Chuckie pulled out the chair opposite Phil and sat in it heavily.

"Careful," Phil told him. "That's a bit rickety."

Chuckie smiled at him and reached for his Bishop's pawn. "Thanks, Phil."

Phil smiled and moved his rook's pawn, but didn't comment beyond saying, "And you'll be happy to know I had your dad test the noise threshhold, and you cannot hear any clacking whatsoever from your room."

Chuckie grinned and began opening up his attack options.

They played on, making idle conversation about their lives as Chuckie systematically brought down Phil's army.

"So," Chuckie asked him, boxing him into a neat checkmate, "do you think Betty and Dad are going to get married?"

"Yep," Phil said, shoulders slumping in defeat as he knocked over his own king, "so I'll have plenty of chances to beat you. And I will. Eventually."

8 - * - * - 8

_Author's Note: And it's done! And not before time. I hope you've enjoyed this sequel to _Dating_. I plan to soon write another in this series - I'm not sure what it'll be about - originally I was thinking I would do the wedding but now I'm leaning more toward looking at the rest of the group and how this shift in dynamic is effecting them. Suggestions on this are welcome._

_In response to some of the reviewers of _Dating:

_- __**Soulman3 - **__Betty and Howard split up, he did not die. I hope that the other questions were answered within this story._

_- __**Cardshark87 - **__Yes, I know it's a little unusual that two couples got divorced. But when you consider what the divorce rate is like in real life...it's not quite that strange. The break-ups were very different - Chaz and Kira just drifted apart until they weren't really a couple any more. Betty and Howard, as Phil implies in this fic, ended up in a very unhappy marriage - one punctuated by increasingly angry fights. I felt this was the likely way for the respective characters to go, and I'll explore these issues in later fics in this series._

_Thanks to everyone who has read, and I hope you enjoyed it. There's more to come - hopefully taking less time than this did._

_Acepilot 24/02/11._


End file.
